


Stay Thrifty

by TessMooreXF



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessMooreXF/pseuds/TessMooreXF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange night in Illinois.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Thrifty

Stay Thrifty

 

"God, Mulder..." Scully was slurring next to him. "I'm a long   
way from Med School, but I don't think I've ever been this  
tired." 

He chanced a quick glance in her direction, her face glowing   
blue by the dashboard lights, eyes half-lidded. Two Vicodin   
and a four hour car ride, yet she still forced herself awake.  
Her arm was hugged to her body casually, weight born by a   
cumbersome sling. She was lucky it wasn't a cast, but he   
didn't dare remind her of that. 

"Hey, Scully... I know we wanted to get to Chicago tonight,   
but why don't we stop a little earlier? I could use a   
little shut eye." He was baiting her, and she knew it. She   
wouldn't stop for herself, but she would most certainly   
stop for his wellbeing. He wouldn't openly remind her of   
that, either.

She chuffed. "Sure... If you can find a motel out here.   
Where the hell are we, Mulder?" 

"We are somewhere in... very rural Illinois." It was the   
first he'd really taken notice of the tall corn lined up   
like skinny soldiers on both sides of the road. The   
sprawling fields swayed in the overly dark night, shuffing   
with the wind. The air hung heavy with incoming weather.   
"Do they get tornadoes here, Scully?" 

Her voice was suddenly sober. "I don't know anything more   
about Illinois than you do... But by the looks of it? I'd  
say there's a good chance of that. That early stop might   
not be such a bad idea."

Mulder chanced another look when he heard her unclip the   
catch for the glove compartment. A small 'ah-ha!' meant   
she'd found the map. He also heard a hiss of pain as she   
jostled her dislocated shoulder and sprained wrist. He   
ignored it. 

"We're in luck, Mulder. Ten miles more brings us right to   
a small town - I can't read the name without the light -   
but it's marked as a rest stop." 

Mulder nodded silently and tried to avoid watching the   
eerie corn.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

He watched her in practiced nonchalance while she   
extricated herself from the car. It was a clumsy affair,   
as she tried to shimmy her way through the door and   
place at least one foot on the ground without jostling   
her bandaged shoulder and arm. Behind her, the crouched,   
half-lit body of the Stay Thrifty Motel waited in   
earnest while the wind whipped around them. The sign at   
the exit had declared the place 'The cheapest luxury in   
the Midwest'. 

With a sigh, Scully finally pulled herself upright, her   
head rushing with wooziness. Mulder allowed himself a   
firm grasp on her shoulder, steadying her. Her returning   
smile was tight and awkward, even through the fading haze   
of pain killers. He understood the sting of bruised   
pride, and allowed her the moment. 

Her pride had taken a beating that day, long before her  
tricky dance with their rental car door. Their assignment  
to Shit Duty was a lull to the senses, and Mulder had a  
sneaking suspicion that it was Kersh's mission to find  
them killed with the utmost humiliation. Their dulled  
instincts had found them both tossed to the floor by a  
brutish farmer with a drug habit, Scully's arm wrenched  
behind her and her shoulder dislocated before either   
agent could work out what the hell happened. Neither   
would be expounding upon their personal virtues when   
they returned to DC. No doubt, they were in for another  
spittle-laden lecture from Kersh. 

Mulder could feel the first droplets of rain stinging  
his face while he held the motel office door open for   
his partner. They'd pulled over just in the nick of   
time. 

The small foyer framing the office was museum of sorts,  
displaying the proud truimph of a hunter, many heads   
mounted upon brown wallpaper. The man at the desk was   
hulking, clothed in flannel, and topped with a   
nondescript hat. He was bent over far in an attempt to   
read something close to the counter. He didn't smile   
when he saw them. 

"Sorry, Folks. No rooms here tonight." His flabby   
cheeks drew up into a self-satisfied sneer. 

Scully looked back out at the empty parking lot. Not a   
single car but their own. "Do your guests all park in  
the garage?" 

Mulder could feel her bristling. She was probably in   
pain. She was probably ready to share some of her   
pain. 

"You're funny, for a broad." Mr. Flannel looked   
pleased with his quick response. "I guess they all   
must've walked." 

"Look, we're federal agents..." Scully began fumbling  
for her ID with her left hand, failing miserably.

Mulder laid a soothing hand on her shoulder before   
flashing his own ID. He could hear her sigh in   
annoyance, and ignored it. "Yes, we are federal agents.   
I'm sorry to impose, but we do need to stop very   
badly, for at least a few hours. We'll take whatever   
you've got left." 

The man looked back and forth between the two agents  
for a moment, considering. "Fine. I've got one   
smoking room open. Take it or leave it, and you're   
out by 6 am."

Mulder nodded, pulling out his Bureau credit card.

"Uh uh". Mr. Flannel smiled crookedly. "This is a  
cash-only establishment. There's a gas station   
right on up the road. Ol' Merle can give you some  
money back if you treat him real nice and buy a   
little something." 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Merle's gas station was only two blocks up, as  
promised. Scully started in on him as soon as the   
car doors shut. "You should have let me finish my   
conversation with that jackass, Mulder. Why did you   
have to cave into him? You know he's just being   
difficult because he can."

"Because you're hurt, you need sleep, and as much  
as I would like to think I don't, I need sleep.   
In case you've forgotten, I had a supremely shitty  
day, too. Let's get some cash, pay for the room,   
and sit somewhere other than the car for a while,  
OK?" He didn't wait for her answer, pushing the   
car into park and flying into the convenience   
store before she could answer. 

The store was run down, with broken, flickering   
flourescents and chipped tile floors. The stock was   
poor and outdated. Mulder quickly selected two   
sodas, a bag of sunflower seeds, and a pack of   
crackers. Scully would need something if she wanted   
to take a pill. He'd seen her jaw tightening in the   
car. She needed a pill. 

Mulder placed his items on the counter in front of   
a middle-aged man who appeared to be bored to tears.   
The man's eyes barely focused on Mulder, or his   
purchases. Instead, the items were absently and   
silently entered into the antiquated computer   
situated on the counter. 

"So... are you Merle?" Mulder asked, curious. 

The other man chuffed. "I'm Steve, Merle's son.  
Merle's been dead for damn near 10 years. Didn't   
leave us shit to keep this place going, either." 

Mulder nodded, pulling out his credit card.   
"That's too bad. I'm very sorry to hear that. I   
was wondering if I might be able to get some cash   
back." 

Steve looked nonplussed. "Sure. Name the amount,   
Buddy." 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

"I'm sorry." She said it plainly, while he parallel  
parked the car on the street across from the Stay   
Thrifty. She quirked an eyebrow at him, "What are   
you doing?" 

He threw the car into park. "I'm sorry, too. And I   
just have a feeling - a hunch - let's keep the car   
on the street, ok?"

"Well, now you're freaking me out. Feel like sharing  
with the rest of the class?" If she could have   
crossed her arms, she would have. 

"Nothing in particular, No. Aside from being a sexist  
prick, I just don't trust that guy. I say we give him  
his money, wait out the storm, and be on our way." He  
gestured out the windshield, where the rain was   
pounding the car and street. The wind blew the heavy  
droplets fiercely, blustering and howling. 

Mulder ran to grab an umbrella from the trunk of the  
rental, making his way around the side of the car  
just in time for Scully to pop her way out. She'd   
gotten better with practice. The umbrella did very   
little to help in the torential storm, water blowing  
its way up under it and forcing itself into their   
faces. They were soaked through before they made it  
across the street. Scully found herself wishing she'd  
had the presence of mind to bring her overnight bag  
from the trunk, but they wouldn't be staying long. 

Rounding the side of the office, the agents were   
startled to find the motel manager's considerable   
mass waiting for them outside the door. A cigarette  
now hung from his mouth, and his body language had,  
amazingly, grown more unwelcoming. 

Mulder said nothing, only handing the man the money  
he was waiting for so anxiously. It was like a scene  
from an old Western, brazen enemies latching gazes  
amid swirling smoke. The rain ruined the image a bit.  
The keyes were tossed towared Mulder in a careless   
sweep, while the meager cash was tucked into too-  
tight jeans. "Name's Sewell. But I won't be here for  
a while." 

The man's angry gaze came to rest on Scully for the  
briefest of seconds, his eyes alight in unwarranted  
fury. There was something in that gaze, unnamed, and  
she shivered for more than the brisk air hammering  
her. She felt a strange sense of history, as though  
the man hated her for far more and far longer than   
their brief encounter. Her exhaustion warred with   
her discomfort, and she fought the urge to return  
to the car. 

To Mulder and Scully's mutual relief, the man named  
Sewell lumbered toward a beaten pickup truck. It was  
slow-going, the man's knees struggling to maintain  
carrying his weight across the parking lot. After a  
short sputter, the truck started and sped recklessly  
out of the parking lot. 

"What the hell did I do, Mulder?" Scully sighed, her  
shoulders finally slumping. 

"I don't know, but that guy's hated you from the   
second he laid eyes on you." He tapped her shoulder,  
then directed her away from the office, the impotent  
umbrella coming up above their heads. "C'mon. He's   
out of here - let's at least go sit down and warm  
up for a while." 

 

\------------------------------------------

 

"Do you think anyone else is actually staying here,  
Mulder?" She asked, while he attempted to unzip her  
jacket for her. He fumbled with the zipper, halfway  
down, before it shot clear. Scully smiled her   
appreciation and allowed him to gently lift her   
sling up and off her shoulder. The jacket came off to   
reveal a luridly bruised but otherwise normal wrist.   
The arm was basically useless. 

He grabbed for the sling, but she stopped him. "It's  
driving my neck crazy. I'll ditch it for a while. But  
you didn't answer my question." 

"Unless they all decided to park elsewhere, as you so  
colorfully explained, I doubt it. And, yes, it bothers  
me." He turned to take in the dimly-lit single room.   
It was an obvious smoking room, but smelled as though   
it hadn't been inhabited in some time. Dust was   
prevalent, the furniture outdated, and the carpet  
shaggy. 'Luxury, my ass...', he thought. "Something   
doesn't quite add up, but we're four hours away from   
the next town, and that storm seems to be getting   
nothing but worse. Best I can figure, that guy just   
has a stick up his ass about renting to anyone he   
doesn't like on first inspection."

Mulder walked toward the bathroom, flicking on the   
lightswitch inside the tiled wall. The lights were   
dim and the bathroom itself looked like something one   
might find in a gas station. He wasn't surprised to   
see a cockroach peek it's curious head up at him from   
the sink. There were even stains and holes worn into   
the shower curtain. 

"Classy place." He came back into the room to find  
Scully reclining cautiously in a chair, arm pulled up   
into her stomach for support. "You ok?" 

"Yeah... I just don't trust the cleanliness of the  
bed." 

Mulder seated himself opposite her, a small wooden  
table serving as a dining area posed between them.  
"I forgot; I got you some crackers at the gas   
station. In case you needed to take a pill, but I  
left them in the car."

Scully smirked back at him, "Along with our sodas?"

He chewed his lip, defeated, and grinned. "Hang on   
just a minute... I saw a vending machine down the   
hallway. You look terrible - I'll see if I  
can find some food out there, and you can take that  
pill." 

"You sure know how to impress a girl, Mulder. Fancy  
Hotel, big bed, gourmet food, and now, unprovoked  
compliments. What more could I ask for?" 

Mulder checked to make sure the room key was in his  
pocket before opening the door. "Ha Ha! You're so   
funny!" 

 

\------------------------------------------

 

The zipper wouldn't budge. Scully sighed, cursed,  
and moaned as she tried to work her pants off with   
her one useful arm. She'd had to pee for hours, but  
she really wanted to avoid having to ask Mulder for  
bathroom help. Finally, panting with the effort, the  
botton worked it's way out of her casual trousers.

The light from the main room trickled lazily into   
the bathroom. She'd been uninterested in illuminating  
the many disgusting features she might find in the   
sup-par bathroom. Mostly, she didn't want to see the   
toilet before using it. What she didn't know wouldn't  
hurt her, she figured, and so began the next phase   
of the struggle: pulling the pants down. 

Her efforts were stopped short by a curious   
undulating in the shower curtain. It swayed as though  
there was a breeze in the room. More importantly, as  
though there was a breeze behind it. Toils with her  
pants instantly forgotten, she began backing from the  
room, quietly as her injured body would allow. 

Less than two seconds passed, however, before a blur  
of black flew out from the curtain, directly toward  
her. Scully thought she saw the glint of a razor   
blade, but couldn't be sure as she turned to run   
toward her gun. It was secreted away in her jacket,  
still hanging innocently on the chair she'd earlier  
inhabited. 

Sadly, her forward momentum was used to her   
disadvantage as her assailant barrelled into her.   
She was forced to the floor violently, her arm  
trapped beneath her and exploding in pain. Her   
head wasn't far behind, slamming into the only   
marginally cushioned shag carpet. 

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Mulder didn't have much luck at the vending machine.  
The soda machine ate his quarters. The snack   
machine was devoid of everything but a couple bags   
of Doritos. It would have to do. He retrieved a   
plastic container from the top of the ice machine   
before opening the door. He was surprised to find   
fresh-looking ice inside. He supposed the ice machine   
didn't need the sort of maintenance the vending   
machines did. Shrugging, he filled his container and   
made his way back to the room. 

In the poorly lit parking area, he barely saw the  
faint shadow. The man was hooded, simply standing,  
staring. Following the man's gaze, he could see   
that it was his own room the man stood in front of.   
The doritos were instantly forgotten, fallen to the   
ground and replaced with Mulder's service weapon.   
Quieting his steps, he crept toward the silent,   
unmoving, featureless man. 

"Hey." Mulder's call didn't startle the man. The  
blackened head turned to consider him as though  
the man had already known he was there. Mulder   
readied himself for a fight as he hoisted the   
bucket of ice at the shadowy figure. 

An angry growl pierced the night, coming from   
inside the motel's single occupied room. "Scully!"

Turning back, Mulder wasn't surprised as he should   
have been to find the mysterious prowler gone, with   
nary a sound or movement around the abandoned lot. 

He didn't waste time running to the room. He   
forgot he'd locked the door, fumbling with the  
key and fighting back the urge to kick the thing   
in. Finally gaining entry, the only sound to be   
heard was of his own heart in his chest. There was   
no movement in the room. 

He panicked, then looked down at the floor. His  
partner lay face down, arms pinned beneath her and   
her face resting in the thick pile of the carpet.   
"Scully?"

He ran to the bathroom, checking for the intruder.   
Instead, he found the shower curtain torn and lying   
on the floor. The window above the shower was open,   
gusts of wind whistling by furiously. "Bastard."

"Scully, c'mon." He gently turned her over,   
cradling her head in his lap. He could see the   
obscene swelling around her arm and wrist. She'd no   
doubt broken it this time. She moaned and sighed in   
his arms. "We've got to get out of here, Partner." 

"Mmmm... Mulder. He attacked me." Her eyes flew  
open, and she looked toward the bathroom. "He had   
some sort of knife, or razor blade. Where the hell   
did he go?" 

"I don't know, but I think we should get out of   
here before we find out. You're going to need to  
get that arm looked at again." He directed her   
gaze to the battered limb. 

"Shit. Let's go." This time, she accepted his   
help off the floor and back into her coat. She  
let him keep his hand on her all the way back  
to the car, then allowed him to help her back   
into the vehice. The Stay Thrifty remained   
black and motionless, not a soul in sight as  
Mulder pulled the vehicle violently from the  
curb. 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

"I bet Kersh was real happy with us." Scully   
smirked while Mulder divvied up the pizza. She  
didn't know why he even bothered with a plate.   
His food inhalation mechansim was almost   
instantaneous. She supposed it was in deference  
to her couch. 

Less fortunately, her broken arm had forced her  
to miss the meeting with Kersh. On the surface,  
it seemed like a good thing, but she'd be on the  
shit list for months to come, medical leave or   
no. 

Mulder handed her an overflowing plate, and her  
stomach grumbled to life. "He was pissed.   
Especially when I reported to him what I found   
out about the dear ol' Stay Thrifty Motel." 

Aformentioned food inhalation commenced, the   
cheese and pepperoni littering his eager face.   
She shook her head. "Tell me, what did you find,  
Agent Mulder?" 

He spoke around a greasy napkin. "Only that our  
friendly motel manager, John Sewell, has been   
dead since 1989, and the motel's been   
unoccupied since. Turns out, Mr. Sewell planned  
a hit on his wife, who was co-owner of the   
place. He paid a couple guys to rape her and   
knife her while she was alone working the   
housekeeping shift. She was sleeping with her   
husband's best friend on the side. When Mr.   
Sewell went to take care of his best friend   
himself, the guy mistook him for a burglar and  
shot him to death." 

Scully shuddered. "Wow." 

"Wow's right. I think what we saw last night was  
some sort of spirit re-enactment of the murder.   
Perhaps some sort of residual energy. Guess who  
the best friend was?" 

Scully raised her eyebrows while she tried to  
manuever the plate and pizza with one hand.

"Ol' Merle, the gas station owner. He died not  
long after the incident." He dove for another   
slice. 

"So, now Kersh thinks we're crazy?" She smirked  
at him, finally taking a lazy nip at her pizza. 

"Kersh already thought we were crazy."

Scully nodded in agreement, then tilted her head  
in that enigmatic way that made him crazy. "Happy  
Halloween, Mulder." 

 

"Happy Halloween, Scully." 

 

\-------------------------------------------  
The End


End file.
